Of Coffee and Ravens
by TaylorWayero
Summary: Creek Slash. Tweek's lived through hell his entire life, but all of sudden, things are looking up. He should have known it wouldn't last. Ratings may go up.
1. Prologue

Of Coffee and Ravens

A Tweek/Craig Fic

Prologue.

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It's been another day in hell.

He walks home, guided by flickering streetlights, kicking dirty snow out of his path. His feet feel like boulders that he has to drag. The one eye that isn't swollen shut registers nothing but the black of night and a faint orange glow of the streetlamps. His ears are still ringing, and all he can hear is his own short intakes of breath. His muscles are tired, aware of every single tiny stab of pain. They quake along with the rhythm of his heart, pounding with exhaustion and fear. The rush sends blood roaring in his ears and he looses his balance, falling face-first into the slush. Real boys don't cry. Tweek is not a real boy.


	2. Chapter 1

Of Coffee and Ravens

A Tweek/Craig Fic

Chapter one

Tweek's POV

"M-mom? I'm home…hrk." I stood in the doorway, dripping with slush. My body was covered in dirt, reds and purples mixing together to form the blood oozing from cuts scattered along my arms, legs and face. I bit my lip, trying to decide weather I wanted her to notice me or not.

"Mmhm…" my mother grunted absent-mindedly. This was a typical response from my parents, who were so busy managing the local Harbucks; they seemed to have forgotten they even had a son at all. Currently, my mother was absorbed in some paper; invoices, investments, inventories. Nothing I even came close to understanding. This sudden revelation of my own ignorance was enough to make me shriek, and with a terrified "GAH!" I scurried up the stairs toward the small bathroom near my bedroom.

I feverishly searched the medicine cabinet for something that would stop the pain searing through my entire body.

"Band-aids...I need...B-band-aids! And –ngh- PEROXIDE! Oh, Jesus…I don't wanna die…"

I found a large black bottle at the far back of the cabinet labeled Peroxide. I tried once, twice, three times but failed to get a grip on the bottle with my trembling fingers. Finally after much effort and many calls for divine assistance, I twisted the small cap off and breathed a huge sigh of relief, knowing now I was safe from the hazards of opening containers: Getting hit in the eye, carpel tunnel, ripping my nails off, or spilling the contents and being eaten up by a wrongly labeled puddle of battery acid. The possibilities were endless, and I had just defied ALMOST all of them, which was why all I wanted to do was proceed with caution, get this done, and get the hell out of here.

"Ow…ngh…o-oh god…" I winced, wiping my fresh cuts with a cotton ball, doused in Peroxide. It stung a bit, and I emitted my usual little squeaks and grunts.

"I'll bet normal kids don't fidget this much when they get a cut, at least not at this age." I thought bitterly.

Normal.

Normal was a world seldom used in my vocabulary. Normal wasn't what had earned me another session of hell behind South Park High this afternoon, and it wasn't what would earn me another tomorrow. The one thing I could count on was that day after day, I followed the same routine. Cartman would come up to me, tell me I owed him money (for what, I have no idea) and then beat me half to death until I gave it to him. No one really knew why Cartman was such a douche. He was just a sadistic kid who was way too obsessed with money, and he scared me. I never bothered to escape. I knew I couldn't make it.

I reviewed my newest injuries. Various scrapes, cuts, and bruises, but now clean at least. I trudged across the hall to my room and smiled at a picture on my nightstand.

Craig Tucker flashed a rare, but obviously forced smile.

Craig Tucker was the boy I had been I had been secretly in love with for most of my life. Ever since I was 8, after a horrific fight that, like everything else made me squirm and emit little noises with a small parting of my chapped lips, against him, I had known I was hopelessly in love with the apathetic creature known as Craig Tucker.

There was a small problem. Actually, a few.

First off, Craig was undoubtedly, 100%, not gay.

Second, even if he was, why would he pick me? I was just a twitchy, neurotic, too-skinny, too-pale freak.

Third, and probably most important: Craig Tucker loathed me with a fiery hate-filled passion.

I slept, running through these three depressing facts, and concluded that there not even a minuscule chance that I, Tweek Tweak, would ever be with the one person I was completely in love with.

And like a true masochist, I basked in the pain and self pity that fallowed this revelation.

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**A/N: nyaaaa~ I like screwing with my poor characters' minds... It'll only get angsty-er from here...**

**Reviews, alerts, whatnot make me cry tears of joy and dance like a mentally disturbed unicorn!**


	3. Chapter 2

Of Coffee and Ravens

A Tweek/Craig Fic

Chapter 2

My room was at the far side of my family's house. Unfortunately, it was the perfect angle facing the east, and so I was awakened by the sun exactly ten minutes after six. Spitting out expletives, I thrust my middle finger out the window, not only to the sun that woke me up, but to the world I had woken up to. A world I wanted nothing to do with. A population I had long since removed myself from and shunned. In particular, on blonde, twitchy percent of this population named Tweek Tweak. There was something about that jittery freak that made my soul burn with a hatred that was far more powerful than my apathetic boredom for humanity. And yet…I found him irresistible. I couldn't help but knock his skinny little frame over with ease, or plant more illogical theories that I knew would keep him up for the nest week into his already frazzled mind. In truth, I looked forward to it. I work up every day with a slight rush, eager to torture him for the sole purpose of making his day miserable. It gave me a sick satisfaction, a feeling of pleasure I couldn't quite pinpoint, or couldn't be bothered to.

I didn't feel that today.

Instead, there was no rush, just an empty knowing pain deep within my being, as if my body was being eaten from the inside out. It was a feeling I so rarely experienced, I was almost convinced I wasn't capable of feeling it: guilt. It made my stomach turn. As I prepared for school, I tried to figure out the new sensation. Guilty? What the hell did I have to guilty for? Hurting him? Hurting that annoying little spaz? How? That's what I looked forward to ever day.

I still hadn't solved the cause of my own mysterious sympathy when I found myself reaching my bus stop, or rather falling into it. I cursed under my breath

"Ugh…damn it!"

"Ngh…S-sorry! Gah!"

And that's when I saw him.

His hair was just as messy as always, and the buttons on his hunter green shirt were tangled beyond hope (similar to the golden nest on his head), and his long, thin fingers still clutched a large thermos. Yes, there was nothing different about Tweek Tweak, was me, Craig Tucker who had changed. I guess I was more observant. I noticed his eyes, a brilliant green, but beyond the, the raw emotion that burned behind his orbs was intense and sent me plunging into that empty feeling of guilt yet again. His eye showed me his true feelings: insane fear and sadness, and above all the piles of emotion swimming in his emeralds, a paranoid distrust for everyone. I couldn't help but think: had I done this to him?

"C-Craig…you-you're…-ngh! - You're crushing me! Gah! Sorry!"

oh

I'd forgotten that I had also fallen and was now squashing the boy I'd been staring at for some time now. With a mumbled apology, I stood up, waiting for him to do the same. He stayed on the ground, seemingly unsure of what to do. I debated weather to help him or not. After a bit of hesitation, I did something Craig tucker would never do: I extended a hand toward my jittery little enemy. He filched, covering his face with both arms as if waiting to be hit. This response sent little lightning bolts of guilt zapping me once again, and I was getting sick of it.

"I'm not gonna hurt you." I said flatly. He opened one eye to gaze at me cautiously.

"O-oh…-ngh- sorry…" I rolled my eyes and grabbed his hand, yanking him to his feet with almost no effort.

"Jeeze, man…you're way too damn skinny. How much do you even weigh?" he responded to my rather rude question with a small shriek and by tugging at his hair, his long nails digging into his skull.

"I…I…u-um…" He tugged harder. I snatched his wrists, forcing his hands to his sides and causing him to squeak again and blush the tiniest bit.

"Hey, stop that…never mind, you don't have to answer that.

"Ngh, ok! Gah!"

Right then the bus pulled up with a horrible screech. The door flew open and I was met with more horrible screeching.

"Boys! Get on the bus! NOW! Or I'll yank you up but your ugly little faces!" Mrs. Crabtree roared. Tweek squealed. I nudged him up the stairs. I knew today was going to be different, maybe too different. Today, everything changed.

Today, I stopped torturing Tweek Tweak.

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**A/N: Ah yes, chpater two...DAMN LATE too, i must say. If you wanna cheat go to .com/#/d2vx95v That'll take you to chpater 3 (:3 I might post that here too, two updates in one day :D) The updates are getting slower now, mmkay? Becaus eI gotta write out teh story. Also, to get a feel of the story think of the song "Love The Way You Lie" -Eminem ft. Rihanna (Eminem! YAYZ :3!) but seriously, that song inspired me for the plot line (which this originally did nto have, it was just gonna random one shot-esque slash) **

**Reviews make me cry happy tears of watermelon flavored joy!**

**~Taylor**


	4. Chapter 3

Of Coffee and Ravens

A Tweek/Craig Fic

Chapter 3

Tweek's POV

I tried. I really tried not to spaz out. This one time, this one time, Craig wasn't putting me down or shoving me in a locker. Couldn't I have acted normal, or at least _human_? The answer was a big, stubborn **NO** from the heavens. I bit my lip, begging my body to stay still and my mouth to stay shut, but the combined pressure of Mrs. Crabtree's screams and the feel of Craig's hand gently nudging me along toward his place at the back of the bus was too much, and my old, spazzy self returned in a blurry flash of gangly limbs and shrieks.

After this particularly extreme episode, I found myself not-so-gracefully plummeting to the bus floor. A second later the collar of my poorly buttoned shirt was being yanked up, crushing my windpipe. I was pulled back up to a standing position, gagging, but never the less, in one piece. I stole a quick glace at my savior. He looked back at me, bored and unimpressed.

"C'mon, you spaz." He mumbled. I turned around, ready to mumble a quiet apology, but he shoved me forward just a bit and I saw his mouth twitch a bit at the corners, as if he were about to smile but caught himself before he could. Of course, Craig Tucker: feared by everyone, respected by all, would never give up his reputation as the apathetic bad-ass in the blue chullo. Such a sacrifice would spell disaster and apocalypse for the rest of his teenage life.

As we made our way to the back of the bus, I tried to ignore the stares like Craig was. I could hear the whispers, bubbling up from the lips of teenagers like frothy alcoholic drinks at a Senior party, snippets of random conversation, all boiling down to the same point and question: What the hell was_ Tweek Tweak_ doing with_ Craig Tucker_? I felt them stare with growing interest. I felt their eyes with gazes of curiosity and distain, mainly for me. I imagined their glares visibly piercing me, turning me into a skinny, spazzy piece of Swiss cheese. The most powerful glare right behind me, belong to deep blue eyes covered by onyx fringe slicing me clear in half. My knees buckled. My whole body felt numb, as if I'd been cut into a million pieces.

Too.

Much.

Pressure.

"Come _on_" Craig hissed behind me, shoving me a bit harder than before, but I couldn't move. I quivered a bit, a twitch, a nervous tick that reminded me what little control I had.

"Tweek…?" Craig asked, more gently than before. I thought I heard a hint of concern in his voice, but I was probably wrong.

Too.

Much.

**Pressure**.

"I…" Stammering, I pushed him aside, clutching my book bag to my chest, awkwardly running to my usual spot on the bus, far from the other kids.

I pulled my feet up on the seat and hugged my knees. Embarrassed and frustrated, I hid my face, resting my forehead against my kneecaps, and I didn't even check to see if he noticed me crying.

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**A/N: Emo Tweek is emo D:**

**2 day 2 chapter update FO YOU FREASH FROM OVEN :D**

**Reviews are love, like hot pancakes on a rainy Sunday after a really wondeful smexeh dream about George Clooney.**

**~Taylor**


	5. Chapter 4

Of Coffee and Ravens

A Tweek/Craig Fic

Chapter 4

Craig's POV

I recovered quite quickly from the shove Tweek gave me. He wasn't that strong. It was the shock of hat had happened that remained in the air. I watched Tweek hide his face and whimper a bit. I realized he was crying. I took a step forward, but was stopped but Mrs. Crabtree's shrill shrieking.

"Tucker!" I watched Tweek flinch at the sound of my name, "Take a seat! I'll turn this bus right around, boy! And then we'll _all_ be late!"

I flashed my favorite finger, but she had already turned her attention back to driving. Hesitantly, I trudged toward the back of the bus, watching all the people staring.

"Freak."

My head snapped in the direction of the name-calling. I watched Eric Cartman, a satisfied smirk creep up on his fat face. I walked over keeping my trademark bored expression plastered on my face,

"Excuse me?" I asked in a monotone, no emotion in my voice at all. He sneered, clearly enjoying this.

"I'm sorry Crag. I didn't know you were hard of hearing! I said." He cleared his throught and repeated his insult, stretching out the word, as if talking to a 2 year old.

"F-r-e-a-k."

I took a step forward and in one swift motion grab the collar of his crimson sweater. I feel the sides of my mouth twitch into a faint smile, something that horrified Eric Cartman.

"A-Ay! Craig! I didn't mean you, ya know! I meant that twitchy blonde _freak show_ over there!" He pointed a fat, stubby finger at said "freak show" who had been watching with heightened curiosity and now squeaked in horror, ducking behind his seat.

That shouldn't have bothered me. But it did.

"Ah, that makes it ok I guess," I purred, almost disgusted at how sickeningly sweet my voice was "Although I'm kind of offended. I think I'm MUCH freakier than Tweek Tweak!"

To prove my point I shoved him into the bus window, balled my hand in a firm fist and punched the bully in his flabby stomach. Before he had time to recover, I swiftly kneed him in the crotch. With a satisfied grunt I flipped off his doubled over figure, and finally made my way to my seat.

"TUCKER!"

_seriously? _

"GET YOUR ASS TO THE FRONT OF THE BUS! NOW!"

Flipping the overweight driver off, I marched unhappily to the front of the bus, sliding into an empty seat near the door.

"-ngh-…Th-thank you…"

The whisper was so soft; I almost thought I had imagined it. I turned toward the source of the sound, greeted by a nest of golden hair.

"What?" I asked, blank look plastered on my face.

" I s-said…thank you for…-GAH-! Sticking up for me."

He caught me off guard. I didn't think I really needed to be thanked. I had just kicked Cartman's ass after he had happened to call Tweek a "freak show". Completely coincidental.

"Well…um…you're welcome."

Real smooth, Tucker. Real. Friggin'. Smooth.

I gave him a quick small smile before I could catch myself. With a squeak, he dove back down to the safety of his bus seat. I caught a hint o blush beginning to creep up onto his cheeks and a small smile that seemed to strike his inner match and let loose his spark.

I wanted to capture that spark, like lightning bug in a jar. I wanted to keep it for my very own, to watch and be amused by it. I wanted Tweek's spark. I wanted Tweek Tweak.

Whoa.

Hold the HELL up here.

I _wanted Tweek Tweak_? Like…liked him. No. I guess he was a sweet kid…cute, even…ok, he was adorable…but it's not like I _loved_ him…right?

God, this is way too confusing.

I was thrown out of my thoughts as the bus lurched to a halt in front of South Park high. Yay. I watched the small jittery teen scurry out through the bus doors, muttering something about driving off a cliff, and wondered if there was even a slight possibility that I, Craig Tucker, could ever be in love with Tweek Tweak.

There was.

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**A/N: :D Thanks for all the comments! I can tell one of you are in the same frame of mind as me, and you won't be dissapointed ;D. Sorry for late updates, I'm preparing to go back to school, so it will slow down, and Ijust recovered from my fanfic block :D**

**Keep the reviews coming guys 3**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Tweek's POV

I hurried to my locker, worried that I might be late. I went through my usual ritual, grabbing at books and trying not to drop them, shrieking when I did. I had finally composed myself enough to make a semi-neat stack of binders in my arms, placing a history textbook haphazardly on top when I heard a small mumble behind me.

"Hey…um…"

"EARGH!" I shrieked, jumping ten feet in the air and watching my binders scatter around me like 2 inch thick binder-snow-flakes. I looked up at the blank face and outstretched hand of Craig Tucker. I let him help me up, unable to meet his eyes.

"H-hey…"

"Hey. Do you sit anywhere? Y'know, like, at lunch and stuff…?"

I looked up, surprised. Was this an invitation to sit with _Craig Tucker_? I stared at him, half to see if he was joking, half just to examine every flawless detail: The way his black fringe, jaggedly cut yet soft, just barley covered one icy blue (almost grey) eye, the way his lids always hooded his eye with a plainly displayed lack of amusement with the world. His lips were slightly turned down in their ever-present frown. He was…well, he was Craig Tucker. He was perfect, he was beautiful. He was smirking. Oh god, I hadn't…I HADN'T SAID THAT OUT LOUD HAD I? What if Craig was some kind of mind reader? What if he had just heard everything I thought? Did he know I was half-hard? DAMNIT!

"ACK! S-STOP IT!" I screamed, hiding my blushing face in the hands.

"Stop what?" he asked, his smirk disappearing, replaced with a confused scowl.

"St-stop reading m-my –ngh- mind! I…I…GAH! This is just way too much pressure!" I quivered and tugged on my hair.

"Tweek, I'm not…" He cocked his head to the side, and then suddenly he smiled. CRAIG TUCKER SMILED! And says, "It's fine." Gently, he took my writs in his hands, pulling them to my sides. My heart stopped.

"You…um…your hands…they're….u-um…–ngh-."

He laughed softly and let them go, much to my disappointment.

"Thanks. Um, I gotta go, but I'll see you at lunch?" It was more of a question than a statement, and he glanced quickly for my approval. I awkwardly jerked my head up and down, like a rusty bobble head. I watched him walk-no, not walk, saunter away towards English class, swinging his hips just slightly to give me that deadly cocktail of want and lust and sinful envy all at once.

"Bye…C-Craig," I breathed, afraid to say it loud enough for anyone to hear, afraid to jinx the moment, afraid for this shattered fragment of perfection to slip through my fingers.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Of Coffee and Ravens

Tweek's POV

I didn't really concentrate for the nest two classes. All I could think of was _Craig Tucker_, who wasn't only being _nice_ to me, but wanted me to **SIT WITH HIM! AT LUNCH! AND EAT FOOD WITH HIM!** What if I messed up? What if I spilled something on me and he hated me for all eternity, just like before? Algebra and American History were filled with many a muffled "eep!" and "oh Jesus!" thanks to my frantic lovesickness.

I had two more classes before the most important lunch of my life, and the next was, unfortunately, gym. Twitching a bit, I scuttled toward the gymnasium, fearing doge balls and awkward uniforms.

"Hey, are you going to gym?"

I turned alarmed. Craig sprinted across the hallway towards me, his long legs moving in a fluid motion.

"W-well, uhm, er…yes?" I blushed

"Me too. I'll go to the gym with you."

"Oh…you're in –hrk- you're in gym class with me? I never noticed…"

"Yeah, I got my classes switched."

"Oh." I mumbled awkwardly.

I opted for the back of the boy's locker room. I wasn't usually that picky about where I changed, but I wanted to stay as far away from a shirtless, pant-less Craig as possible. If he caught me staring at him, it wouldn't just be the end of my life, but the end of this tiny spark of friendship that might have just ignited between us.

I'd just slipped on my gym shorts when a fully changed Cartman came waddling over.

"Soooo," He hissed "What's with you and Tucker, Pansy Boy?"

Naturally, I was scared to death, so I lied.

"Ack! N-Nothing…" He bent down, so he was inches from my face. His breath was stale.

"Lier." He whispered. I was about to protest when in a sudden flash of movement (extremely fast for someone as pudgy as Cartman), he shoved me, sending me reeling into one of the larger lockers reserved for the seniors that been left open behind me. In another second, the door was slammed shut and padlocked. I screamed.

"Agh! Please, Cartman! L-let me out! Please! I'm…I'm not…I can't take this sort of –ngh- PRESSURE!"

I could hear them laughing.

_ my fear is funny_

"Please, help me!" I pleaded.

Still laughing.

_my fear is entertaining_

"Please…"

_I'm here for your entertainment_

Soon, they got bored and left me for a football game. Me? I gave up and left my mind for a quick stroll down insanity. They'd never find me. They'd forget about me and I'd die and the next time they changed one of them would find the gangly, pathetic shell of what used to be poor, gangly, pathetic Tweek Tweak.

I couldn't even die right.

And so I sat in the cramped, cold, metal, soon-to-be coffin, sniffling and drowning in my own sorrow and self-pity. Selfish child I am.

I would have sat there forever, all the way until my death, feeling sorry for myself, I my ears hadn't picked the faint scratch at the other side of the door. I jerked forward and pressed against it. The sound was undeniably the sound of a lock being picked.

I froze.

This was a trick, a false alarm. Look at me; hope already welling inside me, like I'd be saved. They were fooling me, and when they opened the door, and I was unsheltered, vulnerable, then, ithen/i I'd have misery. All thanks to my own stupidity, my own trust. And yet I stood, ear pressed to the metal plate. Why? It could easily have been a friend of Cartman's, one with more patience the he had. Except Cartman didn't have many friends. The kids that had howled and jeered at me weren't his friends, but mindless jock zombies programmed to go along with the in crowd. Do as Romans do. It could easily have been Cartman himself, but it was almost completely impossible that the bigot had that amount of patience and self-control. So I lulled myself into a mellow state with rationalizing thoughts of _it couldn't be, it can't be… _and instead of panicking, I listened to the rhythmic breathes of my savior, as he quietly worked at the lock . With each click, The box felt smaller, until I began to feel claustrophobic, a caged animal ready to snap and scratch my way to freedom. I held all my weight (not much) against the door, just as it popped open. I came tumbling out.

Not much different than a frightened toddler, I grabbed for the closest thing: my helper. I didn't just hold on to him though, I clung to him, wimpering like a scared puppy.

"Tweek?" He mumbled in a gravelly voice I obviously knew. Shakily I lifted my head.

"C-Craig…? –Ngh!- C-Craig! Omygosh! I'm s-so…s-sorry!" I jumped back, whacking my head on the locker door and wincing.

"-ngh- s-sorry…" I breathed. He smiled, shook his head and gave me an intoxicating what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you look. He slid over beside me.

"Hey, it's cool, y'know? Are you ok? I heard you scream," I nodded shyly, and he touched the spot at my head where I had just banged it, "does that hurt?" I shook my head in short little jitters.

"Good, I wouldn't want you to be hurt because I was stupid." I almost wanted to point out that he hadn't done anything. _I _was the one who had gotten myself locked up and smashed my head against a door. Before I could speak, he got up, making me feel very small in the shadow of a-well, a Craig, loosely translated into "sex god". He pulled me to my feet and ruffled my hair. I responded with a nervous hiccup.

"Gym is stupid, and it's almost over anyway. Whatcha say we get a head start on our next class?" Hesitantly, I agreed. I hurried to change back into my regular clothes (I still had just my gym shorts on) and after, snatched up my books, shuffling towards the door with Craig Tucker. He quickly wrapped an arm around em and gave me a quick squeeze, catching me off guard and off balance for a few seconds. I choked back a yelp as we hurried to the final period before lunch.

"C-Craig?" I asked

"Uh-huh?" He was too busy flipping off an elderly woman who was scolding him about wearing hats in school to pay too much attention.

"Um…Thanks," I squeaked, "For –hrk- y-y'know, saving me and…stuff…"

He smiled. It was a huge grin, rare on the face of Craig Tucker, master of the apathetic and careless. It showed off 2 and a half years worth of braces. A poster boy for toothpaste and dental floss, he could easily have been on a billboard for Scope. Instead, he turned his head to me and used that perfect mouth (flawless teeth and all) to form four words I never saw coming:

_ "What are friends for?" _

_

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_

**A/N: See how cleverly I stick Adam Lambert into my South Park fan fiction...like a boss :U**

**sorry for a long wait...hope this chapter makes up for it. Next chapter will get a bit dirty (ohoho :3)**


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